


A bad day

by KayomiKitten



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Roger Taylor, Fluff, Freddie Mercury Is a Good Friend, Freddie Mercury Lives, Freddie doesn't mind, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Protective Freddie Mercury, Roger is grumpy, Sad Roger Taylor (Queen), Soft Boys, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayomiKitten/pseuds/KayomiKitten
Summary: Roger is having a bad day.Freddie helps him out, whether he wants the help or not.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	A bad day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlyAway_33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/gifts).



> Hello! 
> 
> This is a little thing I wrote for my friend becasue she was sad. This is probably super rushed, so i apologize. I really wanted to get it done before she fell asleep. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> :)

It’s one of those days. 

Those days where Roger can’t seem to pull himself out of bed. He’s exhausted despite not having done anything yet. Even the smallest things, like eating a bathing feel like impossible tasks. Like he’s got some heavy black sludge inside of him, weighing him down. 

He lays on his side, staring blankly out the window. The weather outside reflecting his own mind fairly well. That’s how he feels inside, cold and dreary, pale gray clouds swirling in his mind. He locks eyes on a single raindrop slipping down the glass, following it all the way down.

Sad. 

That’s the word. He’s sad. 

Why is he sad? He honestly couldn’t say.

It’s not as if anything had happened. He hadn’t had an argument with any friends or family, It’s not the anniversary of some tragic event in his life, and no recent events should trigger this kind of response. He just woke up today inexplicably sad. 

It’s like his brain just decided he’d had too many good days lately or something. 

“Roger?” He shuts his eyes upon hearing the voice of his friend. “Are you getting up, dear? It’s half eleven.” 

Roger doesn’t respond, he doesn’t see a point to responding, the knowledge of sleeping in late makes him feel even worse. He doesn’t want company, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wants to lay there in bed, alone, until the world stops turning around him. 

Freddie’s hand is on his leg, shaking him, mouth open to make some snarky remark about Roger staying in bed so long. His comment dies in his mouth when he sees Roger’s expression. His blue eyes seem far away, staring out the window at nothing in particular. 

“Darling, are you okay?” The singer asks, concern growing when the blonde doesn’t respond. He tries again. “Rog?” 

“‘M fine.” He says, voice quiet and a little rough, Freddie frowns.

“Are you sure about that, love? You don’t look okay.” 

Roger gives a noncommittal shrug, arms barely moving, still not looking at his friend. Freddie’s frown deepens, and Roger wishes Freddie would just leave him alone. He’s sad and tired and he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Roger makes a surprised squeak when suddenly there are hands on him, pulling him up into a sitting position. He snaps his head over, finally looking at Freddie for the first time, eyes wide. 

“What are you doing?!” He yelps indignantly, unhappy with the development. 

“C’mon blondie, you’re coming with me.” He informs the drummer, a look of determination on his face, mother hen mode fully engaged. “You are going to take a shower, eat some lunch, and then we are going to watch a movie on the couch.” Roger rolls his eyes, fighting against his hold. 

“Freddie, no, I’m exhausted and I don’t feel like company today.” He mumbles, even just this little interaction draining him. 

“You must have misheard me, darling” Freddie says, finally pulling the grumpy blonde to his feet. “I didn’t say you got a vote in this.”

Rogers protests fall on deaf ears as he's dragged over to the bathroom. Freddie has no qualms about stripping him down and forcing him under the stream of water. He hesitates before leaving, part of him wanting to jump in there and help his friend even more, but he resists. Surely Roger can manage a shower on his own, even if he is off today. 

“Don’t you get out until you’re clean, dear.” He calls over his shoulder as he exits, hearing some insult muttered out but choosing to ignore it. 

Now that he has the stubborn arse out of bed, he can feel himself calm a bit. He busies himself with making lunch while Roger is occupied by the shower. He’s not much of a chef, but he can manage sandwiches at least. 

And tea, he’d hardly be a brit if he couldn't make a halfway decent cuppa. 

By the time he’s set two plates on the table, the bathroom door swings open revealing a wet, Roger Taylor. His long locks still dripping small amounts onto his bare shoulders, a towel wrapped tightly around his small waist. He eyes the table curiously, but Freddie shoos him away. 

“No lunch until you’ve got some bloody trousers on.” He says, pushing Roger back into his bedroom. Roger swears under his breath, turning back around. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, very clearly annoyed. “Why can’t you just fuck off and leave me alone?” 

“Because, love, you’re having a bad day. “ Freddie says with a patient smile. “ And I know you probably want to be left alone to sulk, but that’s not what you need. So get dressed, and then we’re going to eat the sandwiches I expertly crafted, and then we are going to have a nice, long cuddle.” 

Roger huffs at him, eyes looking slightly brighter for a moment, but doesn’t protest any further. He goes over to his closet, throwing on something random. He soon joins Freddie at the table. They eat mostly in silence, munching on their sandwiches, which honestly are pretty good. Once the food is gone, Freddie takes both the plates and sets them in the sink. 

“Alright, love, come with me.” He says, pulling Roger up from his chair, who groans unhappily. He lets himself be led over to the sofa, tea still in hand. 

“What now?” He asks, well actually more whines. Freddie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t answer. He deposits both of them on the sofa, sitting down and then pulling the blonde into his lap. Roger blushes as a soft blanket is pulled over both of them. 

“I’m not a bloody toddler, Fred!” He whines. “I can sit by myself.” 

“I know you can, love,” Freddie says, wrapping his arms around the younger man. “But this is nice, isn’t it?” Roger grumbles, but wiggles a little bit closer anyway, getting comfortable. “Anything in particular you’d like to watch, dear?” 

Roger just shrugs but doesn’t answer, so Freddie flips through a few channels before putting something random on. It’s some brightly colored cartoon, clearly made to keep a young child's attention, which makes it perfect for Roger. 

They are halfway through the next episode before Roger speaks again. 

“Freddie?” 

“Yes, dear?” Roger hesitates, biting his lip gently before speaking. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles, looking Freddie in the eye for the first time that day. “You were right, it was a bad day. I needed this.” 

Freddie smiles, tightening his arms, placing a gentle kiss to the blondes soft, fresh hair. 

“My pleasure darling, my pleasure.”


End file.
